"It will not take long to make a little sketch," Mrs. Halsey replied, "and it will be a real pleasure for me to do it." As her fingers moved rapidly over the paper the girls took an inventory of the room. A cracked cooking-stove, and a cupboard behind it formed of a dry-goods box, but all the utensils were scrupulously clean. A closet, another dry-goods case on end, with a chintz curtain in front, concealed, as Winnie's prying eyes ascertained, a roll of bedding, which was evidently spread on the floor at night. Mrs. Halsey knelt before a worn table, and this, with the sewing-machine, completed the furnishing of the apartment. No, in the window there was a row of fruit-cans containing some geraniums. Miss Sartoris discovered them, and Mrs.

Halsey apologized for their condition. "They were just in bud," she said, "but we were without coal for several days, and they were nipped by frost."

Poor woman! she looked as if _she_ had been nipped by the frost too during that bitter experience. She coughed, and Adelaide remarked, "You ought to drink cream, Mrs. Halsey; they say it is better for a cough than cod-liver oil."

"I have plenty of milk," the little woman replied. "The milkman for whom my Jim works lets him have the milk that he finds left over in the cans when he washes them out after his rounds. Sometimes there's as much as a pint, and almost always enough for our oatmeal."

Mrs. Halsey spoke cheerily and proudly--as of a luxury which she owed her boy. The design was completed, and Adelaide was delighted.

"Would you like to have me make the costume in tissue-paper?" Mrs.

Halsey asked; "the sleeve, at least, and this drapery; then any seamstress can make it."

"How much will it be?" Adelaide asked, doubtfully--wondering if her five-dollar bill would cover the charge.

"Do you think seventy-five cents too much? It would take me an afternoon."

"But you could certainly earn more than that by your sewing."

Mrs. Halsey smiled rather bitterly. "Would you really like to know the rates at which I work?" she asked.

Adelaide expressed her interest. "These pretty Mother Hubbard night-gowns sell well, I am sure, but I know you can't get very much for making them, for I bought a pair at a bargain counter for a dollar."

"It is the bargain counter which makes the low pay. I get a dollar and thirty cents _a dozen_ for making them," said Mrs. Halsey, calmly.

"A dozen!" cried Winnie; "and how many can you make in a day?"

"Eight."

"Then you make--"

"Eighty-five cents a day; but I cannot average that."

"Can't you do better with something else?"

"I have made flannel skirts--tucked--at a dollar a dozen, but I can only make eight of those in a day, so that is less. I have received a dollar and twenty cents a dozen for making chemises, which sell at seven dollars a dozen; and seventy-five cents a dozen for babies' slips, three tucks and a hem; forty cents a dozen for corset covers. I have a friend who works a machine in a ruffling factory; she makes a hundred and fifty yards of hemmed and tucked ruffling a day, for which she receives twenty-five cents. So, you see, I am better off than some."[A]

[A] See "Campbell's Prisoners of Poverty" for still more harrowing statistics.

"And can you live on five dollars a week?"

"Six dollars, Madame; Jim earns one dollar and the milk."

"You pay for rent--"

"Six dollars a month; yes, it _is_ hard to earn that."

"You must be thankful that you have only Jim to provide for."

"The Sandys, on the floor below, have six children; five of them earn wages. I think they earn more than their cost."

"But," said Miss Sartoris, "I thought child labor was prohibited by law."

"Not out of school hours, or at home. Then the parents often swear a child is over fourteen, but small of its age, and get it into a factory.

You wouldn't blame them, Madame, if you knew all the circ.u.mstances I do.

I keep Jim at his books, but the study, with the night work, I'm afraid is killing him. They tempt him at the saloon, too, to take what they call a 'bracer' as he goes out to drive the milk cart at 3 in the morning, but I get up and have tea ready for him, so that he does not yield."

"We must go now," said Miss Sartoris, kindly. "You will send Jim with the paper pattern to-night?" Adelaide slipped a dollar into Mrs.

Halsey's hand, and would take no change. And the three went down the stairs thoughtful and sad.

"What can we do for her?" Winnie asked.

"I am sure I don't know," replied Miss Sartoris; "she certainly seems capable of securing better wages."

"I will speak to Madame Celeste about her," said Adelaide; and she was as good as her word. Winnie accompanied Adelaide when she took the pattern to the fashionable dress-maker. The modiste listened in rapt attention to Adelaide's explanation of the gown wanted. She examined the design with interest. "It is perfectly made," she said. "Who constructed this for you? It is the work of an expert. Ah, Miss, if I only had now in my establishment a designer who was with me last year! She had such a mind for _costumes de fantaisie_! For Greek costumes to be worn at the harp, and for Directoire dresses, I miss her cruelly, but Mademoiselle's design is so explicit that we will have no trouble."

"Was your designer a Mrs. Halsey?" Winnie asked.

"The same, Miss. Do you know her? Can you give me her address? I must try to get her back."

"I think you may be able to obtain her. She made this pattern for me; but you will have to bid high, for she has her boy with her now."

"Ah yes! the boy; that was the trouble between us. Seamstresses have no business to be mothers. Mrs. Halsey ought to give up the child entirely to some asylum for adoption; he will always be a handicap to her; but she does not see this, and clings to him as though she thought him her only chance for fortune. There is a mystery in Mrs. Halsey's life. Her husband has deserted her, and she lives in the vain hope that he will come back some day and explain everything. She patronized me once, long ago, when she was in better circ.u.mstances. She will not talk about her husband, and I fancy that he is one of those defaulting cashiers who have run away to Canada. I am willing to take her back on the old terms, but she must give up her boy. I have an order for a set of costumes for one of our queens of the opera. Mrs. Halsey is just the one to take it in hand. Where did you say she could be found?"

"I think you had better communicate with her through me," Adelaide replied; "I am not at liberty to give her address."

"And it is very possible," Winnie spoke up, eagerly, for she had seen a gleam in Madame Celeste's eyes, "that her friends will provide for the boy. In that case she will be more independent, and perhaps will not be willing to return at the old salary. What shall we say is the most that you will offer."

"Five dollars a week and her board; that is very good pay, Miss; fifty cents more than I paid her when she was with me."

The girls could hardly wait to reach the Amen Corner to talk the matter over. Milly was all sympathy. "I will write to papa," she said, "and get him to send Jim to a boarding-school. I'll send for several circulars, and find out how much it costs."

As an answer from Mr. Roseveldt might be expected the next day, we decided to wait for it. Adelaide regretted that her father was in Omaha, as she was sure that he would have aided in the scheme.

Mr. Roseveldt's answer was most discouraging. He regarded Milly's plan as mere sentimental nonsense, and would take no interest in it.

"You might save something out of your allowance, Milly," suggested the audacious Winnie.

"I give away three-fourths of it now," Milly replied, in an injured tone. "What with the flowers I have on the organ every day for Miss Hope, and the favors for the german, which I always furnish, and the bonbons I give you girls, and all my other extras--"

"But, Milly dear," I exclaimed, "we would all ever so much rather you spent the candy money for Jim than on us."

"But I want _some_ candy for myself, and I am not going to be so mean as to munch it, and not pa.s.s any to the other girls."

It would have been a real deprivation to Milly to do without her beloved candy. She gloated over luscious pasty "lumps of delight" in the way of marshmallows and chocolate creams, candied fruits and marrons glacees, and her silver bonbonniere was always filled with the most expensive candied violets and rose-leaves. Worse than this, there were certain little cordial drops, which were a peculiar weakness of Milly's; none of us knew with what an awful danger she was playing, or that Milly inherited a taste for alcoholic beverages through several generations.

But Milly was not selfish.

"Very well, girls," she said, with a sigh, "if you will go without, I will, and we will form a total abstinence candy society. I know just how much that means for Jim, for I paid Maillard eight dollars last month."

"You are a good girl," spoke up Emma Jane, "and if you hold to that resolution, Milly Roseveldt, I will deal you out a cake of maple sugar every day, from a box I've just received from some Vermont cousins. I was wondering what I should do with it, for I don't care for sweets."